


wake up

by magicsoul (cherishiskisa)



Category: 4minute (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band), Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fun, M/M, Multi, Sexual Content, Threesome, i cant believe i wrote this, it's got it all, it's hui-centric and i really fell for him writing this smh, it's not as explicit as it could be but it's definitely there lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul
Summary: While suffering from the bi equivalent of lesbian bed death, Hui and Hyuna have a series of semi-random encounters. Yeah, he's a happy hour DJ at a shitty suburban dance club, but there's just something about this guy.





	wake up

**Author's Note:**

> LMAO I REALLY CANT BELIEVE I WROTE THIS!!!! this is SO self-indulgent, possibly the most self-indulgent thing i’ve ever done, but here it is. over the past few weeks i’ve fallen so fast and so hard for triple h that i myself can barely believe it, and here’s the result! big shoutout to my friends (namely: yesenia) and maddie for enabling me. this is a weird little fic but i had such a blast writing it honestly and i’m glad i got it done. title from pentagons song wake up, but also a little response to triple h’s song what’s going on/it’s a dream!! oh and also i refer to hyojong as e'dawn for the first bit of it lmao and i know that's annoying but it stops soon i promise, please bear with me!! hehe anyway here's this, blease enjoy

Things are just fine, actually.

And that’s sort of the problem.

Back when they’d been in high school, Hyuna about to graduate and Hui wondering whether she’d even want to go to prom a second time, Hui had been so dizzyingly in love with her that he was pretty sure he’d never get bored when they settled down. The prospect of waking up with Hyuna every day, seeing her with bedhead and making her breakfast and then meeting her at home after work, was impossibly thrilling to him, and they spent so much time together as it was that it felt practically like they were living together already. He doesn’t know what’s so wrong with things right now, then; isn’t this what he’d wanted? What’s so different, what’s missing? Why do they barely look at each other anymore?

It’s not that he’s any less dizzyingly in love with her. “She’s more than just a girlfriend, man,” he boasted pretty much every day during that first excruciating year away from her, when she’d been in her first year at college and he was just counting the days until he could apply, get in, and meet her there. “She’s my best friend, too.” The balance had shifted, though, and he was now living with his gorgeous, brilliant best friend, who had at some point until a few undefined months ago been actively in a sexual relationship with him.

Not that it’s all about the sex. It really isn’t. Fuck, Hui can’t explain what’s going on even in his own head. It’s sort of like they’ve lost that loving feeling, except they still love each other very much? Which makes no sense, but. It’s different.

They sleep in the same bed, have silent breakfasts together, and come home from work at about the same time. They sit together on the couch and watch something on TV after dinner, then go to bed. Sometimes she kisses him on the cheek, and sometimes he kisses her hand.

“It’s like lesbian bed death, but for straight people,” one of Hui’s coworkers had theorized after he’d accidentally let slip that he and Hyuna were dying from domesticity. Hui didn’t bother correcting her about the bi thing, because that’s really just semantics at this point.

He thinks he knows what it is, though. Hui might be thriving, but Hyuna’s bored, and she’s so bored that it’s making Hui bored, too. He doesn’t doubt for a second that she loves him, but he’s also not sure that this 9-to-5, coming-home-to-your-boyfriend life is for her. She’s always been a wild card, despite her quiet moments, and he really can’t blame her for being bored. He just wishes one or both of them would _do_ something about it and bring them out of this purgatory.

As it turns out, it’s not one of them, but the neighbor’s cat that does the trick.

Hui gets home from work to find the living room window open and muddy paw-prints on his beige couch. Hyuna has the offending creature purring under the coffee table, and Hui also sees that one of his flowerpots has been knocked over. He doesn’t know when this happened, but the fact that Hyuna hasn’t shooed the cat away but is instead playing with it is some indication that she doesn’t have a whole lot of care for Hui’s upholstery.

“Hey,” Hui says, hanging up his jacket and coming over to assess the damage. “Holy shit.”

“I opened the window for some fresh air and Mister just came on in,” Hyuna says, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “Sorry ‘bout your flowers, I think he’s not so good at jumping.”

“Sorry,” Hui repeats, pulse starting to go up for some reason. “Are you? Why wasn’t the screen on the window? We got it installed for a reason.”

Hyuna looks up at him, really looks at him. “It was on, but then he got on the windowsill and I let him in.”

“Oh, so you _let_ him in, he didn’t just hop on in by himself,” Hui says. “Did you knock over the flowerpot, too?”

“No, that was definitely the cat, but now I wish it had been me,” Hyuna says. She’s frowning, and she stops petting the cat and stands up straight. “What, something happened at work?”

“Work was fine. My couch isn’t fine,” Hui says, pointing to the stains. 

“Isn’t it _our_ couch?”

“Are _we_ going to clean it, or am _I_?”

They stare at each other. Hyuna’s face is just a little flushed, and Hui is full of regrets but also they haven’t made this much eye contact in weeks. He’s frozen to the spot, but Hyuna moves, bending down to scoop up the cat in her arms and take him to the window. She puts the screen back on, closes and locks the window, then comes over and kisses Hui on the mouth.

“You know where the bleach is,” she says, kissing him one more time before stepping away and going to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes.

Hui has no idea what just happened. Was that a fight? Did they just get in a fight? That’s never really happened before, so he can’t be sure. There was a spark there, though, something in Hyuna’s eyes that Hui hasn’t seen for a while, if ever. It’s probably fucked up, but he wants to see it again. 

Neither of them brings up what happened, and the bleach works pretty well and you can barely even see the prints. Even though the physical traces are gone, Hui’s still thinking about it, and he can tell Hyuna is, too. She keeps sneaking glances at him over breakfast, sitting closer to him after dinner. She’s planning something, he knows it. But he’ll wait for her to come to him, just as he’s always done.

It doesn’t take long. Hui gets home from work and Hyuna is sitting at the kitchen table, her hair half-up and her mouth in a tight line. 

“What?” Hui says, heart pounding in that same way again, and hangs his jacket up.

“Care to explain this?” she demands, waving the electricity bill at him, and they get into it.

It’s not every night by a long shot. Maybe one in three, one in four. A couple times a week. It’s never about anything major, just squabbles and minor disagreements, but Hui’s thinking about it all day, what she’ll say to him when they both get home, what she’s got up her sleeve this time. The day before yesterday she had a complaint about the shower curtain; the time before that, it was his turn, and he sure was determined to get answers about why she hadn’t explained to her boss she’d need to work overtime and was therefore on probation. She was forgetful, he was arrogant, she was a bitch, he was a control freak and general pain in the ass.

For the first time in more than a year since their unofficial bed death, things aren’t just fine: they are _fantastic_.

It’s all probably very anti-feminist, Hui muses to himself every morning as he runs over the things they say to each other in the lukewarm heat of the moment. He’s always respected Hyuna’s agency and her freedom, and if she’s bored with him, he hopes she knows that she can leave (even though it’ll break him, of course). Why should them having hushed shouting matches (so as not to wake up the baby who lives upstairs) be the way they fix their relationship problems?

Maybe it’s because there aren’t any actual problems to fix, so they’re making some just for the sake of fixing them. It’s still confusing. But he’s really happy, strangely enough, despite fighting with his steady girlfriend a few nights a week.

It becomes part of the routine, even, so after realizing that one Tuesday, he decides to switch things up. Instead of stopping by his usual coffee shop on his way home from work to grab a macchiato, he goes to some random, unnecessary seedy dance club — in a suburb this small, who needs or wants or willingly goes to a seedy dance club? Actually, Hui, apparently — for a happy-hour mojito. 

Of course, that one random decision, much like Hyuna letting Mister the cat in, is what changes Hui’s life forever, whether he likes it or not.

The club is dimly lit and there’s one sad disco ball spinning on the ceiling, but with no lights pointing at it so it is rendered utterly useless. Nobody’s dancing, but a few people are kind of shuffling around in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, and Hui makes a face at the whole depressing scene and goes over to the bar. 

“A mojito, but make it really weak,” he says to the bartender, sitting down on a stool after checking that it’s not covered in mystery gunk. He spins around while he waits for his drink, people-watching and kind of regretting deviating from his routine. The mojito ends up very weak, as requested, and he’s hoping he can get it down fast and then go home and see what Hyuna’s got cooked up for them to fight about this time.

“One, two, testing, testing.”

Hui looks up across the club, seeing a stage-like platform he hadn’t noticed when he’d come in. There’s a folding table on it, and on the table is a laptop and a bunch of cables, and behind the table is a skinny blonde guy with a microphone and a hairstyle verging on a bowl cut and he looks like he’s about to fall asleep and Hui sits straight up for some reason.

“Hi, welcome, here’s my set,” the guy says, then presses a bunch of buttons on his computer and noisy music starts playing. It’s not really to Hui’s liking, but he’s not that interested in that right now, watching the guy continue setting up his station. He hauls a flat, square device with a bunch of flat, square buttons on it out of his ratty backpack and puts it on the table next to his computer, then pulls a big empty Mason jar out and sets it on the corner of the table. It’s a weird set-up, and the table doesn’t look all that sturdy. The kid probably knows what he’s doing, though, so Hui just sips his mojito and watches.

He didn’t even know happy hours had DJs in the first place, but as far as happy hour DJs at shitty suburban dance clubs go, this one’s pretty good. Or maybe it’s the weak mojito. Either way, Hui’s enjoying himself, and so is the DJ. E’Dawn or something, if the things he mumbles between remixes of top 40 songs are to be trusted. Hui isn’t sure if they are, but E’Dawn, apostrophe and everything, seems an appropriate name for a happy hour DJ. Even if he is kind of a decent one. And Hui’s type. Whatever.

Hui finishes his drink and is just crunching on the leftover ice when the DJ guy says, “Well, they let me do one original song a set, so y’all are the chosen few tonight. EP’s on Soundcloud. Whoop.” He presses a button on his square thing, and a generic EDM-y beat starts. Hui barely holds back from rolling his eyes. Of course this E’Dawn character is a wannabe superstar legend, what else would he be doing playing — Hui checks the dusty chalkboard schedule above the bar — five whole shows a week at this shitty place? 

And then E’Dawn opens his mouth, and starts doing _something_.

It’s not quite rapping, it’s not quite singing, but his voice is high and kind of creepy and Hui’s rooted to the spot again, just as he’d been when Hyuna looked at him with anger in her eyes for the first time. Nobody else in the club seems to really be paying attention, but Hui sure as fuck is, can’t stop watching this weird little guy swaying around onstage, lost in his own world with his eyes half-closed and his narrow mouth almost touching the mic. The song isn’t anything special, but there’s that spark again, this time expressed in E’Dawn’s confidence and the way he clearly doesn’t give a fuck, or maybe just straight up doesn’t know, what’s going on around him.

Hui feels very, very nervous.

He fumbles through his wallet, leaves a random amount of money on the bar for his drink, and hightails it out of the club, heart racing.

Fuck.

Hyuna doesn’t notice that Hui is home late, and it’s an off-night in their unspoken fight schedule. They watch an episode of something unremarkable and Hui tries so hard not to think about the wannabe superstar DJ that he ends up thinking about him anyway.

After that, he’s like a man obsessed. He _is_ a man obsessed! He braves the slimy, badly-lit wilds of The Rendezvous five nights a week and stays as long as he dares, watching E’Dawn’s sets and memorizing the choruses of his original songs (he doesn’t have very many, but they’re not repetitive, Hui is surprised to find; the kid has a decent musical sense under that red eyeliner and the dark roots peeking out from the base of his blonde hair). He doesn’t know what about him is so bewitching, and it does feel a little witchy, just how quickly E’Dawn has caught him under his spell. They’ve never even talked, for fuck’s sake, and all Hui does is sit at the end of the bar and pretend he’s not staring as E’Dawn sways and mumbles his way through his set. 

He goes to the club, listens to mediocre music through bad speakers while forcing himself to finish his increasingly watery mojitos, and then goes home to play-fight with his girlfriend, who is none the wiser about all the aforementioned. Why does Hui feel so guilty? He’s just supporting local musicians, not doing anything actually wrong.

That’s what he’s telling himself, at least. Until he crosses any sort of line, it’s nobody’s business but his own, and he doesn’t plan on crossing any lines. He’s a simple guy. Roleplaying being mad at Hyuna and watching E’Dawn from afar is definitely enough excitement for him.

This goes on for about three weeks. Hyuna doesn’t ask why Hui has been coming home from work later than usual, and it’s only about an hour difference, definitely not enough time to be carrying on any illicit activities. Maybe he’s just been taking a slower bus. Hui’s proud of himself for not acting suspicious, but he’s also not doing anything suspicious, he’s pretty sure. It’s all under control.

E’Dawn has a schedule, too, he learns over the course of these three weeks. He plays remixes, “deep cuts” (his term, written on the business card taped — yes, taped — to the bulletin board of The Rendezvous), and his original stuff for about forty minutes starting at 4:45, then takes a five-minute break, then gets back into more of the same. Hui can never stay long past the break, though, not wanting to worry Hyuna, not wanting to be away from her for too long. And he can only take so much EDM before he needs a stronger drink.

It’s a Thursday, and the club is about as full as it usually is on Thursdays, which is to say there’s around ten people, all of whom are ignoring each other. Hui drains the last of his minty ice-water and watches E’Dawn rifling through his backpack for something, his playlist going to the same ambient shit he plays whenever he takes his break. A fiver to the bartender, and Hui is going out of the club. It’s his turn to start the argument tonight, and he’d forgotten to think of anything, but he’s sure he’ll be able to improvise something.

Shit, he’d been supposed to go grocery shopping, too, right? That might result in a real fight, not a fake one, so he ducks off of the sidewalk and into the alley next to the club, texting Hyuna and asking her for the grocery list. She sends him back some frustrated emojis, but then tells him to wait while she finds the list.

Hui smiles slightly, scrolling through their texts. They’d actually had sex last week, and while thatshouldn’t be surprising, considering they’ve been in a committed relationship for going on seven years now (yikes, that makes him feel old), it happens a lot rarer than both of them would like, probably. It was nice, though. It’s a shame that it took learning to argue for them to love each other again, but c’est la vie.

Hyuna texts back with the shopping list, and Hui looks over it, copying it to his notes app and making some small changes. He doesn’t notice right away, but there’s a door in the alley, and it opens and closes and someone steps out to start smoking. Hui glances up from his phone to confirm it’s not a ghost, then looks back down to finish with the shopping list.

Then looks back up. It’s E’Dawn, and E’Dawn is looking at him and lighting a cigarette.

Hui doesn’t know what to say, if he should say anything. They’re almost exactly the same height, and E’Dawn is a really stupid name and he wishes he had something else to think of him as. E’Dawn is still looking, and Hui can’t look away first. Why is he still looking?

E’Dawn puts his lighter back in his pocket and exhales. “I’ve seen you around.”

Fuck. Shit. Hui doesn’t remember how to flirt, he hasn’t flirted with anyone for seven years. “Yeah?” he manages, his voice squeaky. And he thought he was being so sneaky! Maybe E’Dawn really is a witch. It would explain a lot.

E’Dawn nods. “You come every night. I ‘ppreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Hui says again, feeling really, really stupid. “You’re good.”

E’Dawn snorts and makes a weird little face, one of his many weird little faces. It’s very strange to see it up close, and not as badly lit. He stretches out his arm to offer Hui his cigarette, and that’s a weird thing to do for a stranger, right? Hui takes it, though, and breathes in, not thinking about where this cigarette has just been, whose fingers were holding it to whose lips. He hasn’t smoked since college. Maybe Hyuna will smell the smoke on him and give him a lecture about health and safety, and—

Fuck. Hyuna. What is Hui doing? He has milk and eggs to buy, he shouldn’t be flirting with a DJ in an alleyway. He coughs out his breath and hands the cigarette back quickly. E’Dawn is watching him with his strange, owl-like eyes, and his expression is weird, but that’s also just his face, Hui can’t tell what’s going on.

“I have to go,” Hui says, hoping his face isn’t red, hoping his hair isn’t a mess, hoping E’Dawn is thinking about Hui’s mouth when he takes the next drag from his cigarette, hoping God strikes him dead on the spot.

“Okay,” E’Dawn says, dropping his cigarette to the ground and scuffing it out with the heel of his Converse. “See you tomorrow.”

Hui wants to die, but instead of dying, he just makes some sort of weak rodent noise and flees.

He does come back tomorrow, though, because he’s a sad bastard and can’t help himself. He slinks in later than usual, E’Dawn has already started his set, and sits in his usual spot at the bar, hating himself. How and why had E’Dawn noticed him? This could only spell trouble. God, he probably thinks Hui is such a freak.

Like, he’s not wrong, but still. That stings.

But thankfully, E’Dawn is a good witch and not a bad witch, and doesn’t even so much as look in Hui’s direction same as always, like nothing has changed. Hui has no idea how he had the time to notice him when his eyes are always on his Launchpad (so he’d Googled it. What, is that against the law?). But— apparently, he had. Hui doesn’t know how that makes him feel, and he hates himself for not being able to stay away.

Nothing happens for the next week or so, though. The only change is that at some point, Hui pulls out cash to pay for his mojito, and the bartender says, “Oh, someone got it for you already.”

Hui nearly snaps his neck looking around to find E’Dawn, but he’s not even there, he’s on break.

It probably wasn’t him, anyway. There are other regulars at this place, for some ungodly reason, and it’s possible one of them took pity on Hui’s misery and bought him his drink. 

Hui thinks it’s possible, not that it’s likely. He knows what’s likely, and the thought excites and terrifies him in equal measure.

But he loves facing his fears, so within a few shows after that, he’s actually coming up to the table, heart going a mile a minute and hands sweaty at his sides. E’Dawn is about to go on break, and the ambient music is already playing. Hui clears his throat, but E’Dawn doesn’t look up, so Hui grasps desperately at straws and says the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s the jar for?”

“It’s a tip jar,” E’Dawn says. “So it’s for tips.”

“Oh.” Hui reaches into his pocket and pulls his wallet out, but E’Dawn shakes his head and, continuing not to look up, points to a small notepad and pen by the jar.

“Tips. Like advice.”

Hui blinks down at the notepad, and looks at the jar. It’s true, it really does have a few scraps of folded paper in there. Huh. “Okay,” he says, then bends down to write ‘switch from Soundcloud to YouTube’ on a slip of paper, which he folds and puts in the jar. He also writes ‘ask me for my number’ and scribbles it out very surreptitiously and hopes E’Dawn doesn’t notice. He crumples that sheet up and puts it in his pocket to throw away later. “Do you ever get good advice in here?”

“All advice is good advice,” E’Dawn says, and Hui realizes with a jolt that he’s been watching him the whole time he was writing. Whoops. 

Hui doesn’t know what to say next. He casts a glance over the table, then looks at E’Dawn again. “Is E’Dawn your real name?” God, why is he so fucking stupid? That’s the most stage-name-y stage name Hui has ever heard, why is everything that comes out of Hui’s horrible mouth the stupidest thing anyone has ever said? Why does his life know nothing but suffering?

“Yeah,” E’Dawn says, his face as blank as ever.

Hui blinks a few more times. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, it is,” E’Dawn says, going through his backpack until he finds a driver’s license, which he holds out to Hui.

Hui takes it gingerly. “This… says Hyojong, actually.”

“They mixed up the paperwork,” Hyojong says, taking the license back. “Do you have a name?”

“Uh— nope,” Hui says, panicking again. He’s also really relieved that he doesn’t have to keep thinking of him as _E’Dawn_ anymore, and that his real name suits him. 

Hyojong laughs, shaking his head. “Gotcha. Don’t you have to go around about now?”

“Yep,” Hui says, nearly tripping as he steps back from the table. Hyojong has a name, and a laugh, a laugh which Hui made him do. By saying something really stupid on accident, but still. This is a lot for one night. He does a jerky half-wave Hyojong’s direction, and, as is by now customary, flees the scene, Hyojong’s laughter echoing in his ears. 

He doesn’t dare talk to him again after that. That line he’s been thinking about? He’s on the verge of crossing it, and he doesn’t want to cross it. He and Hyuna have a wonderful thing going, the best. They don’t even need to get into fights anymore, they just talk, ask each other about their days. Things are as stable as they’ve always been, but now that they’re excited to be around each other again, he wouldn’t dream of doing anything to ruin it. Not even if that ‘anything’ is an uglycute Soundcloud rapper who’d rather get advice than money. Hui’s not planning on doing anything about it. Not even if he wants to.

Unfortunately, he does want to.

But he’s not going to. So it’s fine.

He tries to cut down on going to the club, too, but he also doesn’t want Hyojong to get the wrong idea, so he doesn’t quit cold turkey; he still makes it to about three shows a week. Maybe, if he’s really, really strong, he’ll be able to make it on two a week. Not yet, though, but it’s on his mind.

And he never did anything wrong in the first place, so he doesn’t feel guilty.

Hyuna, evidently, doesn’t agree with that philosophy.

“You’re cheating on me,” she says as soon as Hui walks through the front door. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are wild, and Hui can tell immediately that this isn’t a play-fight she’s dreamed up, this is real. Fuck, fuck. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She’s really upset, and she throws something at Hui: a balled-up napkin. Hui bends down to pick it up and unfold it, and sees The Rendezvous’ logo and name printed on the corner. 

“Don’t even try to deny it,” Hyuna adds, tearful. “That’s why you’re always so late from work smelling dingy, huh? Isn’t it? You’re rendezvousing with someone? How _dare_ you? After _everything_ —”

“I’m not,” Hui blurts out, holding the napkin and fidgeting with the layers of paper. “I’m not cheating on you. Hyuna, I swear. I can explain.”

“Oh, can you?” Hyuna says, snatching the napkin back away from him to blot her eyes with. “Why else would you be going there? For the excellent pinball machine? Don’t make me laugh.”

“The pinball machine is good,” Hui agrees, then realizes he’s not making things any better and shuts up.

“So it _is_ true?” Hyuna says, hands trembling, and Hui reaches out to cover them with his own.

“No,” he says, looking straight at her. “I really can explain. I’m not cheating. I haven’t done anything. I swear. I swear, baby. I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t.”

Hyuna thinks about this for a moment, taking deep breaths. “Then why?”

Hui sighs, squeezing her hands. “It’s kind of a long story?”

“I have time,” Hyuna says, angry again, and moves to pull her hands away, but Hui tightens his hold, stepping closer to her and nodding.

“Okay,” he says softly after a moment. “So… I’m… supporting local musicians?”

Hyuna gives him a look so withering that he actually physically cringes.

“I know— I know. But seriously. There’s this one DJ guy and he’s pretty good and I feel bad that nobody pays attention to his sets, and I just got in the habit of going,” Hui says, shrinking with every word. It’s definitely not a lie, but he’s also leaving out some of the truth. He’ll cross that bridge when they get to it, but what matters right now is making sure Hyuna’s okay.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hyuna says, yanking her hands away and flicking Hui right on the nose. “A happy hour DJ at The Rendezvous, that’s the homewrecker here? Oh, I _have_ to see this bitch. Put your shoes back on, let’s go.”

“What— Hyuna— I swear, nothing—”

“I believe you,” Hyuna says, pushing past him to get her jacket and hat on. She’s been wearing this little newsie cap Hui got her for her birthday last year nonstop lately, and Hui takes it as a good sign that she’s not too mad to wear it. “Now let’s go.”

Hui sighs meekly and follows, checking a clock as he goes. He doesn’t know how late Hyojong works, he’s never stayed more than twenty minutes past his break, but the club is open late, there’s a good chance he’s there and will be there for the next few hours. 

God, Hui is not looking forward to this.

The club isn’t far, and they hold hands on the walk, but Hyuna lets go when they get to the block with The Rendezvous on it. “Which one is it?” she asks, her face solemn again.

“You’ll know,” Hui says kind of helplessly, because he doesn’t know how to describe Hyojong without revealing his pathetic crush.

Hyuna looks up at him, despairing, then sighs and goes into the club.

Hui stands there like an idiot for a few seconds, then follows her in. 

Inside, he sees Hyuna. He sees Hyojong. He sees Hyojong looking at Hyuna, and Hyuna looking at Hyojong.

It doesn’t feel like the confrontation he’d expected. Why hasn’t Hyojong looked away yet? He hasn’t noticed Hui, either, he’s only got eyes for Hyuna, and—

Oh. Jeez. Surprise, surprise. Well, no one can resist her magical powers, who can blame him? Fuck. Hui goes over to the bar and sits down, huffy, but doesn’t order anything. Hyuna is walking up to the DJ table, and Hyojong is taking his headphones off, and Hui feels a soup of emotions. He hates soup. 

Hyuna doesn’t come back to the bar; she takes a seat at one of the dance floor-side tables, and doesn’t look back at Hui. Hyojong starts the music for one of his original songs, and Hui is surprised — doesn’t he usually do that earlier in the set? Hui’s not so egocentric as to believe he’d been waiting to see if Hui would show up to do it, but… yeah, he’s believing it. However, thoughts about that dissipate as he watches Hyuna’s reaction to Hyojong’s little performance. It’s clear she’s just as entranced as Hui has always been, and Hui feels a flash of irritation. _I saw him first_.

The thought is ridiculous, and he shakes his head to clear it away. Hyojong is getting to the first chorus, and Hui stares at the back of Hyuna’s orange head for a long moment, then hops down off his barstool and leaves the club. He texts her that he went home and that he loves her, and once he’s home he microwaves some leftovers for dinner and goes to bed. 

She comes home around two hours later, slipping into bed behind him. He can’t even see her face and he knows that she’s glowing. He’s not surprised.

“Well?” he mumbles, having been about to fall asleep.

“I like his stuff,” she says, her face in the back of Hui’s shoulder, her arms going around his waist. “We’re gonna hang out.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hui sighs. This may as well happen, honestly. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, even with his own girlfriend. “Cool.”

Hyuna’s arms tighten. “Sorry I thought you were cheating.”

“’s fine,” Hui says. He finds one of Hyuna’s hands and brings it to his lips, kissing her palm. “Get some rest.”

“Hwitaek…”

Hui pretends to already be asleep. He’ll deal with this later. Right now, he just wants to sleep for twelve hours and forget the way Hyojong and Hyuna were looking at each other. _I saw_ both _of them first._

In the morning, neither of them brings it up. Hui’s glad for it. It feels… weird to think about it. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but it does feel weird. He’s probably overthinking it, but, just to be safe rather than sorry, he makes a very firm pledge to himself that he won’t go back to the club this week, and he sticks to it.

That doesn’t stop Hyuna, though. Hui gets home from work before her, and Hyuna comes in all bouncy and bright-eyed. She kisses Hui hello, then goes over to make some Sriracha toast.

“Not hungry for dinner?” Hui says, flipping through some magazine.

“No, I had a lot of snacks,” Hyuna says, and, after what look like some considerable mental debates with herself, says, “We went out for coffee.”

“Who?” Hui says, still engrossed in the magazine.

“Hyojong and me.”

That gets him to close the magazine and look up at her. “He drinks coffee?” he says, dumbly, unable to think of anything else to say. As if that’s the most unbelievable part of this whole story to him.

“Not really,” Hyuna says, her voice higher than usual. She’s nervous, too, then. “He had orange juice.”

Hui makes a strangled sound. “Um… okay.”

“Okay?” Hyuna puts her toast down and turns around to look at Hui. “That’s all you have to say about that?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Hui counters, raising his eyebrows. “Congrats on the orange juice?”

“I went out for coffee with another man, and you don’t even care?” Hyuna says, putting her hands on her hips. Hui can’t tell if she really wants him to be mad, or if she’s playing. 

“Well, I’ve been stalking the same man at his workplace for the past month and a half, so I guess fair’s fair,” Hui shrugs, always ready to put his foot in his mouth during an argument. He looks back down at his magazine, even though he can’t even pick out a single word of text.

Hyuna is quiet for a moment. “I want to see him again,” she announces. “And I think you should, too.”

The magazine goes off the table. “ _What_?”

“You heard me,” Hyuna says, nodding decisively. “People do it all the time. We can— we can both just— you know. Keep going. It’s okay, right? You like him, too?”

Hui goes red. “I— yeah, yeah, I like him,” he mumbles.

Hyuna comes over and sits in the other kitchen chair, scooting close so she can tangle her ankles with his. “Okay. So what’s the harm? As long as we both know what’s going on,” she says. “You know I love you, yeah? And I know you love me. It can just be a… thing we do.”

“A thing we do,” Hui repeats. He feels faint. This is a lot of deception for one couple to carry out, but Hyuna’s right, they do both like him, and as long as they talk about it beforehand… Shit. Hyuna’s a genius. “Shit, you’re a genius.”

“I know,” Hyuna says, looking smug, and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. 

Hui turns his head and kisses her lips. He wonders what happens when Hyojong finds out they’re together; that’s another thing for Future Hui to worry about. “And… you’re not mad at me at all?”

“At _all_? I don’t know about at all, but I’m not that mad at you, no,” Hyuna says.

“I really didn’t do anything,” Hui mumbles, continuing to kiss her.

“I know you didn’t. I haven’t, either,” Hyuna says, pushing Hui’s hair back from his forehead. “I’m glad you told me, though, even if I had to find out for myself first. This’ll be fun. Right?”

Right. 

To Hui’s surprise, it does end up being fun. It turns into a little game, like a competition. Who can get the furthest fastest. He knows Hyuna will win, because even though she’s shy with strangers, he could tell just from seeing them talking once that Hyuna and Hyojong are on the same wavelength, whereas Hui is still at RadioShack trying to find an adapter that’ll tune him into their station. But even though he knows the conclusion, he still doesn’t mind playing.

He starts going back to the club, and this time, Hyojong doesn't ignore him when he walks in, looking up to see him. Hui wonders if he was hoping to see Hyuna, but shoves that thought away. Hyojong waves him over, and Hui goes, nervous.

“You’re back,” Hyojong says. “I thought I did something.”

“No, just busy at work,” Hui lies. Hyojong noticed he was gone? That’s a good thing, right? Or maybe he was hoping he wouldn’t come back. Fuck, Hui is a mess.

Hyojong is holding something out to him, and Hui takes it, looking down at the cover. It’s some sort of CD, but he doesn’t recognize any of the songs.

“…Is this your mixtape?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, looking at the CD warily. “In case you miss another show and miss my sweet tunes.” 

Hui turns the case over in his hands. Hyojong probably printed out this cover art himself, which is more endearing than it should be. “I’m Hwitaek,” he says, sneaking a glance at Hyojong. “Well — Hui.”

“Nice,” Hyojong says, pressing a button to start the next song, and Hui waits for a second before he takes that as a cue to leave. Hyojong can’t be more than a year younger than him; why does Hui feel like he’s from not only a different generation, but a different planet completely? In what world is ‘nice’ the appropriate reaction to being told someone’s name? What does he even mean? He likes Hui’s name or something?

He’s a mystery. But at least he gave Hui his mixtape.

Hyuna is definitely doing better than Hui is, though, winning the race by a mile. She’s always on her phone, biting her lip and smiling as new texts come in, and Hui doesn’t need to ask to know who they’re from.

That bitter feeling is back. Which is so weird. He agreed to this, he _wants_ this. He’s glad Hyojong is making Hyuna laugh at his texts, and he knows Hyuna won’t leave Hui for him. Then why does he feel like this? He saw them both first, that’s true, and it took him a month to even learn Hyojong’s real name, but Hyuna’s getting his name and number and a coffee date within an hour of meeting him.

He’s not jealous for Hyuna, even; he’s jealous for Hyojong, that she’s getting the attention from him that Hui feels like he’s also earned and is definitely not getting. He’s not jealous, he just wants recognition.

Hyuna, with her sixth sense, can tell Hui’s out of sorts over this, so she takes the time to check in. “Say the word and I’ll stop seeing him,” she says, her chin on Hui’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No, I do. I’m— wait, seeing him?” Hui says, glancing down at her in surprise. “Like, _actively_?”

“Not really,” Hyuna assures him. “We go out for coffee sometimes, that’s about it. You see him, too, right?”

“He gave me his mixtape,” Hui says, knowing how pathetic that sounds. Hyojong and Hyuna are, apparently, actively wooing each other, and all Hui has is his fucking mixtape, which he’s too afraid to listen to.

Hyuna lifts her head and looks at him for a moment, then kisses the bridge of his nose where he used to have a scar; it’s mostly faded now. “Well, if you change your mind,” she says quietly. “Let me know.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Hui says.

“But if you do.”

“Okay.”

He wonders if Hyojong even knows that Hui is trying to woo him, too, in his own, anxious way. He’d be absolutely stunned if that were the case, though, because literally all Hui does is stare at him from across the club and sometimes leave tips in his jar, such as ‘get a haircut’ and ‘don’t get a haircut’ and ‘play something by the Beatles.’ 

Hui had been fine at getting Hyuna to go out with him, back in the day. He was a lot more willing to embarrass himself back then, for some reason. Now he can barely make eye contact with Hyojong without getting utterly petrified and turning into a bumbling idiot. Well, if Hyojong likes bumbling idiots, he’s sure he’s into it, but otherwise, he’s not doing very well.

However, he manages to overcome the bitter, jealous feeling. Even though he’s pretty sure Hyuna and Hyojong have progressed to kissing (Hyuna’s been wearing lipgloss lately, which she hasn’t done in years), he’s not miffed about it anymore. He has always been the pining sort, after all, and he and Hyojong talk just enough to keep him going. He also listens to Hyojong’s mixtape, and hearing his freaky little voice directly in his ears as opposed to over the club’s shitty speakers is such a full-body experience that he ends up being late to work. He can’t stop picturing Hyojong everywhere, in all parts of his day-to-day life. In a recording booth or, more likely, just mumbling into a microphone in his bathroom to get an echo effect. Waking up — Hui pictures his place as a one-bedroom above a restaurant, the bed just a mattress on the floor. He’s sure Hyojong sleeps shirtless. He thinks about what Hyojong was like in high school, in college, a grade or so below Hui but at a school across the city. When did he start making music? Is his earring real or fake? Hui knows that Hyuna has the answers to some of his questions, but he doesn’t want to ask, just wants to keep thinking about him and puzzling them out himself.

Needless to say, he’s smitten. Hyuna is, too. He can tell by how tightly she holds onto him when they sleep, like she’s reassuring him that he’s still her main guy. He appreciates it, and reassures her in his own way, too, brushing her fluffy bangs aside to kiss her forehead and making her extra toast in the morning to show he cares. They don’t really ask each other about how their individual Hyojong quests are going, assuming both of them are doing fine without intervention.

Somehow, this goes on for a month. Hui knows Hyuna and Hyojong go out for coffee on Fridays and sometimes on Mondays, and Hui’s still watching his sets three times a week. Hyuna sees him less frequently, but talks to him more, so it evens out. As for Hyuna and Hui, they’re doing just as great as they have been; the sex is semi-regular (but definitely not scheduled), they spend more time together than before, and they both have this secret knowledge of the boy they’re both flirting with. They don’t really talk about it, but just knowing it is enough to get them both shy and giggly around each other, like they’d been when Hyuna had first asked Hui out after months of him trying to get her attention.

But Hyuna is getting restless again, Hui can sense it. She’s not dissatisfied, but she wants more, and he can tell it’s frustrating her to have these two separate parts of her life that never touch. Hyuna, unlike Hui, welcomes an emotional soup, and goes into life hand-blender-first to get everything combined. Over lunch one day — she’d come to meet Hui at a sandwich place near his work — she says, “I think you should invite Dawnie over for dinner.”

It takes Hui a second to figure out whom she means, but once he does, he’s not any less confused. “Uh… sure,” he says, putting his sandwich down. “But wait, what do you mean?”

“I think it’s time we show him the man behind the curtain, you know? I’d feel bad about taking things any further if he doesn’t know we’re together,” she says, offering him some of her fries. “I mean, how are you doing with him?”

To be honest, Hui hasn’t really made any progress. Hyojong sometimes points to him before starting certain songs, but the songs don’t have any intelligible words and therefore Hui doesn’t know if he’s sending a message or not. Maybe he’s just saying ‘hi, weirdo who can’t talk to me, I see that you’re still there and it freaks me out!’ It’s Hui’s own fault, though. He just hopes Hyojong isn’t disappointed when he finds out he has to put up with Hui if he wants to date Hyuna. “Fine, I guess,” he sums up vaguely. “And you?”

“Great,” Hyuna shrugs. “He’s a lot of fun, we get along great.” Maybe Hui just doesn’t know him that well, but ‘fun’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind when he thinks of Hyojong. Maybe… ‘intense,’ or ‘unique,’ or ‘quiet.’ He tells Hyuna this, and Hyuna laughs, shaking her head. “Quiet? He’s so noisy. We’ve gotten kicked out of two Starbucks already because he keeps forgetting not to yell.”

Hui raises his eyebrows. He finds that a little hard to believe, but it makes sense that Hyojong is different when he’s with Hui versus when he’s with Hyuna. He’d like to see them together, actually, find out what he’s like when— wait. That’s what Hyuna’s suggesting. Why is she always so many steps ahead of him? “Okay, so… dinner,” he says after a moment. “When?”

“Well, unless you want to have dinner at 1 AM, probably whatever night he’s not working,” Hyuna says. She evidently assumes Hui knows Hyojong’s schedule, and damn it, she’s right.

“Wednesday,” Hui says, “and Sunday.”

“Either of those,” Hyuna shrugs. “You can make that casserole thing, I’ll do my famous salad, he can bring drinks.”

Hui picks his sandwich back up. He’d thought this would be a weird, brief fling that never went anywhere for the both of them, but if Hyuna wants Hyojong to see both of them simultaneously and come into their home for dinner, she must want something more serious. Not that Hui’s opposed — he’s the opposite of opposed. He’s just surprised by this turn of events. Hyuna is always full of surprises. “Okay. I’ll ask him.” He agrees with Hyuna that he should be the one to ask, not her. Hyuna goes on enough one-on-one dates with Hyojong, he won’t see it as as much of an occasion. 

Easier said than done, of course.

Hyuna knows he’s going to ask Hyojong on Friday, and all day she’s texting him encouraging pictures of puppies captioned with “You can do it!” and “Follow your dreams!” and “You’ve got this, babe!” It makes Hui feel marginally less nervous, but he’s still a mess when he walks into The Rendezvous and takes his usual seat at the bar. He turns his phone off, too, so he doesn’t just stare at his email all night and talk himself out of doing what he’s supposed to do. For Christ’s sake, Hyojong is just… some random bleach-blonde artist-in-residence at the shittiest club in the world, why does Hui care so much if he doesn’t want to have Hui’s legendary primavera casserole? The worst that could happen is he could say no. That’s all.

Hui waits until Hyojong’s about to go on break. He drains the last of his mojito dregs, then gets up and sidles over to the DJ table. His heart is going so fast and so loud that he’s sure Hyojong can hear it over the music. “Hey,” he said, resting a hand on the corner of the table before deciding that’s way too forward and snatching it back away. 

“Hey,” Hyojong replies, taking his headphones off and looking at Hui. Why does he always look like he’s dying? Is that on purpose? It suits him.

“I,” Hui starts, knowing his face is red, “was wondering— if— do you wanna come over for dinner?”

For the first time since Hui has sort of known Hyojong, Hyojong looks surprised. “Oh. Dinner.”

“Do cool kids not eat dinner these days?” Hui says, mouth on autopilot. 

“No, we do,” Hyojong says.

Hui _thinks_ that’s a yes, but he’s not sure. “How about Sunday?”

Hui knows Hyojong knows that Hui knows his schedule. He can see it on his face. “Sure, that works.” He gestures to the notepad by his tip jar. “Write your address. What time?”

“Whenever,” Hui says, hands shaking as he scribbles down his address and tears the paper off the pad to give to Hyojong. “How about— six? Seven? Six-thirty? Seven-thirty?”

“Six,” Hyojong says, taking the paper from Hui. He doesn’t even look at it, just folds it in half neatly and slips it into the tip jar. “I’m vegetarian.”

“Okay,” Hui nods, eyes wide. “Okay, no problem. See you Sunday!” Too enthusiastic, fuck, but Hyojong doesn’t seem to mind or notice. 

“Nice,” Hyojong says, mystifying as ever, and puts his headphones back on. That’s the end of that conversation, evidently. Hui steps back and ducks his head to hide his grin. He actually asked, and Hyojong actually said yes! Well, he said “sure” and “nice,” which could mean anything, but he’s definitely coming over for dinner, and that’s a win in Hui’s book.

Hyuna is very excited to hear the news, and she and Hui spend all of Saturday debating about how clean is too clean for the apartment. Hyuna thinks there should be some ordered chaos, but Hui is advocating for spotlessness. They sort of compromise: Hui cleans the living room until it looks like a model home, and Hyuna leaves a neat stack of books on the kitchen table with some mugs and things left out so it looks homey. And it does look like a home, Hui realizes, as he tries to see it through a near-stranger’s eyes. There are framed photos of Hui and Hyuna from Hyuna’s college graduation, then from Hui’s; a photo from their first trip together; a stuffed-full bookcase in the living room; a welcome mat in front of the door. Hyojong will probably find it all boring, but at least he’s coming over, that’s the important part for now.

“So what are we gonna say to him?” Hyuna says on Sunday morning, shredding an entire bowl of cheese for Hui’s casserole. “I think we should have something prepared.”

“Do you have something prepared? Because I don’t,” Hui says. “I don’t even really know what we’re _doing_.”

“We’re seeing if he wants to date both of us,” Hyuna says, pinching her lips together in that way she does when she’s trying not to roll her eyes. “But we can’t just say that, he might think it’s strange or a prank or something.”

“A prank,” Hui repeats. His nervous energy woke him early this morning, so he’s been up since 6 doing laundry, and his speech comprehension is a little slow. “Why would he think it’s a prank?”

“I don’t know! When’s the last time someone propositioned you for a threesome, huh? It happens, but I doubt it happens often,” Hyuna huffs. 

Oh, jeez. There’s the _threesome_ word Hui has been too nervous to think about. Is that what Hyuna wants? Is it what Hui wants? It’s what makes sense, but he also doesn’t want Hyojong to think it’s just about a boring couple trying to spice up their sex life. And now he’s thinking about it, picturing it. He’s probably red and he’s stopped chopping bell peppers, and Hyuna comes over and rests her head against his arm. 

“Actually, if anybody’s been propositioned for a threesome before, I bet it’s him. He seems like the type,” she says, putting her arm around Hui’s waist. “It’ll be fine, babe. We can all just talk about things, and maybe he’ll run away screaming and it won’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Hui says, giving up on the peppers for now. “Besides, he likes you a lot, right?”

“Well, he likes you, too,” Hyuna points out, looking up at him. “He gave you his mixtape. He didn’t give _me_ his mixtape.”

“I don’t know if he likes me,” Hui says, going redder. He and Hyuna are a very warm-toned couple, what with Hyuna’s hair and the way Hui blushes all the time.

“Of course he does,” Hyuna says, stretching up to kiss him. “How couldn’t he? Anyway, you saw him first.”

“Yeah,” Hui mumbles, kissing her in return. “I’m not that nervous.” He is. “It’ll be fine.” It will be.

Hyuna takes a shower, Hui puts the casserole in the oven, and the countdown begins.

They help each other pick outfits, and pretend they’re not both nervous as they sit on the couch and read for a couple hours before Hyojong comes over. But when the doorbell rings at 6:03 PM, they both jump up and look at each other, totally at a loss.

“Go open it!” Hyuna hisses, pushing on Hui’s shoulder. “Go, I’ll be in here.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Hui says, panicked, and trips over himself as he goes to the door. He makes it, though, and takes in a quick breath before opening it.

Hyojong is there, wearing a black t-shirt and holding a bottle of wine. “Am I late?” he says, scuffing his shoes on the welcome mat and taking them off before coming in.

“No— no, you’re right on time,” Hui says, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of the living room. “Are you hungry? We cooked.”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, then he and Hui both simultaneously realize Hui’s mistake in pronoun choice. Fuck. Well, so much for the element of surprise. Hyojong gives him a _look_ , but then his attention is caught by something over Hui’s shoulder and he goes still.

“Dawnie!” Hyuna says, coming out of the living room. Her voice is high, and she’s nervous, too, but Hui can hear her genuine smile. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Hyuna? What—” Hyojong looks from Hui to Hyuna, and Hui’s pulse is pounding in his ears and he musters up a smile. Hyojong looks around, though, seeing the framed photos on the walls and how lived-in the place looks, the ‘his’ and ‘hers’ coat hangers by the door. “Oh.”

Hui waits, breath stuck in his throat. Hyojong is putting two and two together, but what’s with that reaction? He doesn’t have time to ask, though, because Hyojong is handing him the bottle of wine and taking his wallet out of the pocket of his straight-leg jeans. 

“I get it,” he says, thumbing through to see how much cash he has. “I have… ten dollars. My mom’s phone number is in there, call her when you’re done, just let her know.” He looks up at them, sighing. “I’m sorry for flirting with your girlfriend,” he says to Hui. “I’m sorry for flirting with your boyfriend,” he says to Hyuna. “Sorry.”

Hui feels a physical thrill as Hyojong says he was _flirting_ with him, actually flirting, but something is still off, and he doesn’t understand what Hyojong is saying. Hyojong is usually incomprehensible, yeah, but this is different. He and Hyuna exchange bewildered looks, and Hyuna steps forward, frowning. “Honey, what are you talking about?” she asks.

Hyojong shrugs. “You’re gonna torture and murder me, right? I know how this goes, I’ve heard about shit like this. I’m not really worth your time, and I already said sorry, so—”

“ _What_?” Hui says, on the verge of laughing hysterically. 

“Like, it’s a thing married couples do, I read a book,” Hyojong says, evidently surprised Hui doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “You pick a target or whatever, and it’s like a game, and then you kill ‘em. Never thought it would happen to me.”

“What kind of books are you reading?” Hui says helplessly. “What? That’s not at _all_ what this is.”

Hyojong narrows his eyes. “No?”

“No,” Hui says, casting another worried look back at Hyuna, who seems to be holding back laughter.

“Then what is it?”

“You’re so morbid,” Hyuna says, definitely not holding back fondness, and takes the wine from Hui. “Come in, sit down. And I know you’re not really a vegetarian, you had half of my ham croissant last week.”

“That obviously wasn’t me,” Hyojong says, looking quickly at Hui. “This is… huh.”

“Huh,” Hyuna agrees, going into the kitchen. Hyojong follows her, because she’s impossible not to follow no matter the circumstances, and Hui goes after.

“So you promise there’s no torture and murder,” Hyojong says, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter, but not before another quick look Hui’s way.

“Pinky-promise,” Hyuna says. “Poor guy.”

“Who are you calling poor, eh? Didn’t you hear me say I have ten dollars in my wallet?” Hyojong says, and Hui’s chest feels like it’s full of New Year’s Eve sparklers. Sure, this isn’t what he’d been expecting to happen, but how very Hyojong to immediately assume that he was about to be murdered instead of any other normal, reasonable explanation. Hyojong looks good in Hui and Hyuna’s kitchen, at ease, and he looks different in this lighting, younger. Hui feels another brief stab of jealousy that Hyuna has gotten to see him in this kind of good lighting already, but it passes after a second and he just resumes looking at him.

“Hui made casserole, and I made my famous salad,” Hyuna explains, pushing Hyojong out of the way so she can get out plates. Hui approves of the way Hyojong is watching her like the sun shines out of her ass, and their eyes meet looking at her. Hyojong only looks away because Hyuna pushes him the other direction again and makes him hold the salad bowl.

“What’s famous about it?” Hyojong says, looking down into the bowl. “It’s just some leaves.”

“You’ll take that back once you try it,” Hyuna says. “How do you feel about Sriracha?”

Hyojong tilts at an angle so he can look around Hyuna, directly at Hui. “Is that a trick question?” he stage-whispers.

Hui nearly drops his oven mitt, not having expecting a direct address. He doesn’t know what to do with Hyojong’s full attention on him, as he’s used to at least part of it going towards the Launchpad or his computer. “No,” he stage-whispers back. “I don’t like it, either.”

“I don’t like it, either,” Hyojong says to Hyuna, shrugging and doing a cute, crooked little smile.

“Heathens, weaklings, and all-around disappointments,” Hyuna mutters, taking the salad bowl away from Hyojong once she’s set the table. “Fine. All the more for me.”

Hui finds a corkscrew and starts opening up the wine Hyojong had brought. Hyuna takes the casserole out of the oven, where it had been warming, and Hyojong is suddenly right there, holding three wine glasses in one hand.

“I guess… I can’t run away this time, since I live here,” Hui says, trying for humor, and Hyojong huffs an amused noise.

“Yeah. Guess not. I was really surprised when you asked.” He sets the wine glasses down when Hui succeeds in uncorking the bottle. “Cute apartment.”

“Thanks,” Hui says, glancing up at the apartment to see it, as if he doesn’t see it every day. “We cleaned.”

Hyojong is looking at him again, though. “Was it Hyuna’s idea?” he asks after a moment.

Hui knows he doesn’t mean the cleaning, and he also doesn’t really know what the answer to the question is. He pours the glasses half-full. “It was a group effort,” he says, handing Hyojong one of the wine glasses. For some fucking reason, his stupid mouth adds, “And I saw you first.”

Hyojong takes the wine and ducks his head, and he’s definitely grinning. “Get a load of this guy,” he mumbles. “Yeah, you did see me first. I saw you when you walked in, though.”

Hui’s mouth goes dry, and he takes a sip of wine. It’s a decent red; he wonders if Hyojong picked it out special for tonight or if he had it lying around. “You did?”

But Hyojong doesn’t have time to answer, because Hyuna is coming back and taking the third glass. “Let’s sit,” she suggests, putting her arm through Hyojong’s and leading him over to the table. “If you don’t like dinner, we’ll torture and murder you.”

“Stop it, I was really scared!” Hyojong laughs, gently shaking her hold off and sitting at the table as requested. 

“Please, do I look like the sort of person to invite someone over for dinner and then torture and murder them?” Hui says, sitting in his usual spot.

Hyojong just looks at him, his expression just a shade more alive than it usually is. “Do you actually want me to answer that question?” he says, and now that Hui knows he’s being flirted with, he can’t bear to maintain eye contact, it’s too much. He looks away, cheeks hot, and Hyuna laughs as she comes over and sits down, completing the trio.

“Be nice,” she chastises Hyojong. “And eat up. You’re too skinny.” 

Hyojong makes a face at her, but picks up a fork, twirling it in his fingers before scooping up some of the casserole to try. Hui waits anxiously as Hyojong chews, and Hyojong makes a vague, approving noise and leans his chair back onto the hind legs. “You made this?”

Hui nods, fidgeting. “Do you like it? It’s the only thing I know how to make.”

“He’s being modest. He’s also great at pancakes,” Hyuna says, smiling at Hui.

Hyojong has another bite and shrugs. “Yeah, it’s good. Doesn’t really go with the wine, though.”

“And whose fault is that?” Hyuna says before Hui can feel jilted. “The grapes’?”

“What, you’re some kind of wine snob?” Hui says, his curiosity breaking through his shyness. “It’s wine, doesn’t it go with everything?”

“I’m an everything snob,” Hyojong says, “not just wine. Like, did you listen to my tape?”

“Yes,” Hui says. Is this a test? “I really—”

“I know you liked it, but what headphones did you use?”

Hui shrugs, glancing over to his computer to see what he’s got plugged in. “Just, like… Apple headphones?”

Hyojong frowns deeply at him, which emphasizes his whole I’m-about-to-die aesthetic even more. “I’m loaning you my Beats, and you can listen to it again.”

“Can I listen to it?” Hyuna says, taking an indignant bite of her salad. “Or is it for boys only?”

“We share a computer, and I burned it to the hard drive weeks ago,” Hui points out, and is very rewarded when Hyojong snickers under his breath. “You could have listened to it.”

“Well, I will!” Hyuna huffs, but she’s smiling, too, bouncing off of Hyojong’s energy. They really are kindred spirits, Hui can tell, but he doesn’t feel left out; now that he knows Hyojong was actually flirting with him…

“With good headphones,” Hyojong insists, pointing his fork at her, and she leans in to take the bite of casserole he’d speared there.

“Sure,” she says, then mouths ‘no way’ at Hui when Hyojong’s not looking. Hui hides a smile by sipping his wine again.

“So,” Hyojong says after they’ve all just been munching in comfortable silence for a while. “How long have you been together?”

“Uh, seven years, I think,” Hui says, and laughs quietly when Hyojong makes a horrified face. “I know! We were high school sweethearts, it’s really not as crazy as it sounds.”

“Yeesh,” Hyojong says. “How am I supposed to feel butting into that, huh?”

Hui frowns, putting his fork down. “Well—”

“He’s joking,” Hyuna says, rolling her eyes. “You’re supposed to feel however you’re feeling. We thought you might be weirded out, but—”

“Okay, lemme just say this,” Hyojong says, leaning his chair back again and sipping his wine. Despite the red eyeliner and his messy bowl-cut hair, he really does look like a little snob. “I think threesome culture is so tacky, right?”

Hyuna glances at Hui and mouths ‘called it.’ Hui’s confused until he remembers what Hyuna had said, about how if anyone’s been in a similar situation before it’s Hyojong. Hui really isn’t surprised.

“Like, this whole ‘we want,’ ‘we like,’ ‘we thought,’ sort of thing, and no disrespect, obviously, I respect y’all as a couple, but it’s not the _couple_ I want, you know?” Hyojong says. “I don’t want there to be a ‘we’ and a me. I want _you_ , and _you_ , not a ‘we.’ You know?”

“You know it drives me crazy when you talk philosophy,” Hyuna says dryly and eats a forkful of salad. 

“I guess that’s just… a side effect of the situation,” Hui says, glancing up at Hyojong. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he has things he wants to say. He’s putting himself out there, though; he hasn’t even told Hyuna one-on-one what his thoughts are in detail yet. “It’ll get more familiar with time and there won’t be such clear delineations. But that won’t happen overnight, there’ll be an adjustment period.”

Hyojong looks at him, thoughtful. “Go on.”

“This is new to me,” Hui says, making the understatement of the century. “Very new. But being a— I guess an item with Hyuna is what I’m used to. I get that you’re not romanticizing the idea of relationships, but the fact of the matter is, we’re used to being in one that’s a certain way. That doesn’t mean we don’t want it to change, _obviously_ , since you’re here. Can you put up with tacky for a little while until things even out?”

Hyojong keeps looking at him, then inclines his head just slightly and takes a sip of wine.

“That’s a yes,” Hyuna says, also looking at Hui with eyes all alight. “Really, I think Dawnie’s just jealous, and he’s going to want us both to himself.”

“No!” Hyojong protests, dropping the legs of the chair back to the ground and almost going pink from defensiveness. “No, that’s not it — no!” 

Hyuna starts laughing at him, and that makes Hyojong laugh, too, and Hui covers his face with his hand to hide his brilliant grin. He feels silly for ever having been nervous at all, because this feels so natural, and Hyojong is much easier to talk to than he’d seemed. He does wonder what Hyojong makes of them as a couple, though, since he’s gotten to know Hyuna as a boisterous, fun coffee-drinking kiss maniac (presumably), and he’s gotten to know Hui as a mumbly, painfully shy stalker. Hui likes to think there’s more to himself than that, but he wouldn’t blame Hyojong for being disappointed in the situation, despite the bright, slightly open-mouthed smile on Hyojong’s face that contradicts everything Hui is thinking. 

He knows they’re an unlikely couple; now, for some undefined and uncertainly serious period of time, an unlikely trio. It really will take some getting used to, but he’s looking forward to that process.

Evidently, he’s staring, because Hyojong stops laughing and raises an eyebrow at him. “What? Something else to say?”

Hui shakes his head quickly and picks up the bottle of wine as a cover. “Nope. Anybody need a top-up?”

“Me,” Hyuna says, nudging her wine glass towards Hui. She also looks at him searchingly for a moment, as if to ask how he’s doing, and he smiles at her in answer as he fills up her glass. 

“You know, I figured you were a girl with secrets, but I didn’t figure it’d be like this,” Hyojong says conversationally, taking a sip from his own glass.

Hyuna glances at him, torn between smiling and frowning and ending up with a little scrunch between her eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna talk about it?” she says. “Did I hurt your feelings by not telling you right away?”

Hyojong snorts. “What? No. It’s just funny. Believe me, this is, like, best ending.”

Hui goes red, because that’s unambiguously a positive thing. “You know, when I first met Hyuna, she had a boyfriend, too,” he says, “but I broke them up real fast.”

“Luckily for you,” Hyojong says, looking lazily over at Hui as he takes another bite of casserole, “that’s not my plan.”

“No?” Hui says, nervous again but for a totally different reason. “What’s your plan?”

Hyojong doesn’t say anything. He holds eye contact with him, and his neutral expression is replaced with a little smirk. 

“What?” Hui says again, but Hyojong’s smile is infectious and it’s not long before he’s smiling, too, even though he doesn’t know why. 

“Oh, you two,” Hyuna sighs, and the next time Hui catches her eye, she winks at him.

Hyojong has evidently moved past that topic of conversation, tapping his fork on the edge of his plate and drinking the rest of his wine. “I checked out that webcomic you were telling me about.”

“Ah-ha! What’d you think?” Hyuna says, perking up right away.

“Is this the sex toy one?” Hui says long-sufferingly, and Hyojong pulls a little face at him.

“Yeah. Sorry, I hated it,” he shrugs. 

“First Sriracha, now this?” Hyuna huffs, crossing her arms. “Get out.”

“It was bad!” Hyojong laughs. “Condescending. Sriracha’s too red for me.”

“Am _I_ too red for you?” Hyuna says, pouting. “Is that why you like Hui, he’s pink and not red?”

“Sure,” Hyojong says, glancing at Hui with that same smirk. 

“Can you only eat so much of a certain color?” Hui asks instead of getting flustered, feeling like he should start standing up for himself or getting used to this. If he gets flustered every time Hyojong flirts with him, he gets the sense he won’t be able to function very well for very long.

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, glancing down at his plate and poking the last few bites of casserole he’s got there. “I’m about to hit my green limit for the day.”

Hui laughs, then hesitates. “Wait— are you being serious?”

Hyojong glances up at him, taking a bite. “What do you think?”

“I think I wouldn’t be surprised,” Hui says carefully. “But I also think you’re pulling my leg.”

“Why would I want to pull your leg? It’s a nice leg,” Hyojong says around a mouthful of casserole. 

“He doesn’t have a color quota, I’m _pretty_ sure,” Hyuna says, poking Hyojong’s shoulder. “Do you?”

“Ow— okay, no, I don’t,” Hyojong says, scooting his chair away so he’s just out of her reach. He sounds whiny, which is new, and Hui smiles into his glass. “Don’t poke me.”

“How many tattoos do you have, again? You can handle being poked,” Hyuna retorts, finishing off what’s on her plate. “Also, I’m adding you to Hui’s chore wheel, and it’s your turn to do dishes.”

Hyojong rolls his eyes, but Hui doesn’t even notice, caught up in the concept of Hyojong’s tattoos. Maybe, if they all play their various cards right, he’ll see them soon? He’s not jealous that Hyuna knows more about Hyojong than he does anymore; instead, he’s excited to learn it all for himself in turn. “A fucking chore wheel,” Hyojong is saying as he quickly finishes his food and takes his and Hyuna’s plates to the sink. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Hyuna says, lifting her glass to Hui in toast as she drinks. 

Hui smiles at her, gently nudging his ankle against hers under the table, and takes his plate overto the sink for Hyojong, who is, in fact, dutifully washing the dishes. “Thanks,” he says, because he knows the chore wheel is a pain, and he’d definitely be kind of grumpy if someone invited him over for a threesome, then made him do dishes.

“I used to be a busboy. Get ready for the cleanest dishes you’ve ever seen,” Hyojong says, flashing him a very brief smile. 

Hui can’t help smiling back, and he also doesn’t really go away even though there’s nothing to say and Hyojong is just washing dishes. How typical of Hui, to just hover nearby with no purpose in mind. 

Hyojong doesn’t seem fazed, though, and he sets one of the plates into the drying rack. “You shy?” he asks abruptly, and Hui coughs, surprised.

“Yeah,” he replies after a moment, because what’s the point in lying? He’s usually _not_ shy, is the thing, he’s a confident guy, but there’s something about Hyojong that just makes him forget everything he knows.

Hyojong hums. “Me, too,” he says, not looking up from the sink, his sudsy hands. Now that Hui’s looking at them under good lighting, he can see the small circle tattoo on the outside of his wrist. He wonders what the others are, and where, and why the fuck Hyojong thinks he’s shy when he clearly gets along so well with Hyuna and she’s never tolerated shyness in anyone. 

“Are you done yet?” Hyuna says, coming over to Hyojong’s other side. 

“Almost,” Hyojong says, setting another plate in the rack and washing up the third. “What, is it murder time?”

“Yes!” Hyuna giggles, putting her arm around Hyojong’s waist. “Pick your weapon.”

Hyojong thinks about it for a moment, and Hui admires his resolve; he knows it’s not easy not to lean into Hyuna when she touches you. “Well, are you knocking me out first?” he asks.

“Nope, you’re conscious the whole time,” Hyuna says gleefully. “Isn’t this better than any personality test?”

Hyojong smiles slightly, finishing washing the last plate and putting it on the rack to dry before washing his hands. “Just a basic knife. Actually, I change my answer. Anything but drowning.”

“There will be no drowning,” Hyuna promises, taking Hyojong by the wrist and pulling him away from the sink. “Come on, let’s go sit.”

Hui feels a very gentle pressure against his forearm and glances down to see Hyojong’s hand, the rings on his fingers still damp from washing dishes, brushing too irregularly to be by accident against his skin. He doesn’t pull away, his heart flipping over, and he looks up at Hyojong quickly. Hyojong looks away just as quickly, letting Hyuna take him to the living room.

Hui follows. He likes seeing Hyuna and Hyojong together, just as he knew he would.

“Can I sit here?” Hyojong says, but sits anyway without waiting to be told yes or no. He’s right in the middle of the couch, and Hyuna is content to sit by his side, pulling her legs up under herself. This leaves only one spot for Hui, which is directly next to Hyojong, and swallowing his nerves, he goes over and sits as well.

They end up very close together. For the first time, Hui can hear Hyojong breathing. Hyojong’s elbow is against Hui’s, and he smells like laundry detergent and cigarette smoke. Hui trembles, feeling very much like he’s in a dream and wishing Hyojong would pinch him. Instead, he just clears his throat and reaches for the TV remove. “Should we watch something? Dinner and a movie? The full experience.”

“Okay,” Hyuna says, but she sounds distracted. Hui doesn’t worry about why, though, and ignores the poking and rustling and hissing he can hear from one seat over as he turns on the TV and scrolls through some channels to see if there are any movies on.

“Hey,” Hyojong says after a second, and he also sounds kind of weird.

“Hey,” Hui agrees, spotting a Harry Potter marathon and deciding that’s probably too nerdy for tonight.

“You— there’s something on your shirt,” Hyojong says.

Hui frowns and looks down at himself. How long has it been there? Hyuna’s usually pretty good at telling him about things like that, and vice versa. But he doesn’t have time to identify if anything is actually there, because Hyojong comes out of nowhere, swooping in underneath him and pressing his mouth to Hui’s.

Hyuna was Hui’s first kiss, his first and last. For a second, he doesn’t even remember how to do it, and he can tell Hyojong is about to pull away, but then his body kicks into gear and he brings his hands up and sinks them into Hyojong’s blonde hair and pulls him in. Hyojong licks Hui’s lower lip and leans closer, and Hui wonders if this is how he kisses Hyuna and then stops wondering anything at all because now Hyojong is biting him and Hui exhales a quick breath against Hyojong’s sharp teeth. 

Hyojong’s mouth is narrow but clever, and all his kisses are fast, he’s catching his breath between each press of lips and tongues. Hui wants to surprise him, too, so he runs his hands around to the back of Hyojong’s head to hold him still and kisses him deeply, catching Hyojong’s low noise on his tongue and licking into his mouth. Hyojong has to pull away after a few seconds to gasp, and his lips are so red. Hui stares up at him, feeling like they’ve just unlocked the secrets of the universe, and of course Hyojong says—

“Nice.”

“Oh— my God,” Hui laughs, and yanks him in for another kiss. They’re both grinning, and Hyojong moves to get closer to him, putting a hand on Hui’s shoulder and gripping his shirt. After so long of watching him from afar, it feels indulgent and almost too good to be this close, Hyojong’s thumb pressing under Hui’s ear as his other hand holds onto his shirt tightly and their lips hit and miss and hit and miss.

Like he’s seeing a lighthouse through the fog, Hui remembers Hyuna, and forces himself to come up for air. He looks at her, and she’s biting her lip, eyes big and bright. She reaches over behind Hyojong and takes Hui’s hand, lacing their fingers together tightly. Her dimples are standing out in her cheeks and she leans forward, resting her head against Hyojong’s arm. “I told you I thought you made weird faces while kissing, and now I know for sure!” she says, tilting her head up to beam up at him.

Hyojong makes a noise at the back of his throat and pulls away, covering his mouth with his hand and looking aghast. “I don’t,” he says, and Hui knows that his hair is rumpled because of Hui’s hands and, when Hyojong moves his hand away, his lips will be red because of Hui’s mouth. “I don’t, there’s no way!”

“You totally do,” Hyuna laughs, squeezing Hui’s hand, and he squeezes in return. “I knew it, and I was right.”

“No way,” Hyojong insists, shaking his head, and Hyuna just laughs.

“Babe, tell me what you think,” she says, casting a glance at Hui, and Hyuna is so smart, she’s got everything planned out, got the whole world around her finger. She takes Hyojong’s wrist and pulls his hand away from his mouth, at the same time letting go of Hui’s hand, and in a smooth motion pulls Hyojong down into a kiss. He protests, but not for long, bracing a hand on the couch cushion beside her head and kissing her back. 

No, Hyuna was lying, Hyojong isn’t making any weird faces. It feels like an out-of-body experience to watch someone else kiss his girlfriend, and Hui wonders if Hyuna can taste him on Hyojong’s lips and a shiver runs down his spine. Hyojong moves to straddle Hyuna’s lap so easily that it must be routine, and his other hand darts out, seeking Hui and finding him. He gets a tight grip on his shirt front and drags him in, and Hyuna laughs and mumbles something against Hyojong’s mouth as Hui quickly moves in close, unable to resist.

He doesn’t know why, can’t explain it, but there’s this one spot at the bolt of Hyojong’s jaw and he can’t stop looking at it as Hyojong slips his tongue into Hyuna’s mouth. So he leans in and kisses him there, and Hyojong breathes out audibly and moves, but Hui wasn’t expecting him to move and his teeth accidentally press against his skin, and Hyojong breaks the kiss with Hyuna like he can’t bear to stay still any longer. “Holy—” he mumbles, kissing Hui again, and Hui feels Hyuna’s hand curling around his hip. She’s so close that he can feel her breath on his cheek as Hyojong kisses him. They’re really doing this.

Hyojong pulls away and looks at Hyuna, uncertainty flickering on his face. Hyuna, who is taking this moment to put her hair into a ponytail, laughs briefly. “Yeah, go ahead, honey,” she says, then looks at Hui. “It never goes over well at Starbucks, but he likes being shirtless.”

“Well, so do I,” Hui says, because it’s true, and Hyuna shrugs, spreading her hands in a welcoming gesture. 

“Both of you, go ahead. You really think I’d complain about both of you being shirtless on top of me at once?”

“Good point,” Hui says, already undoing the buttons of his shirt. Hyojong leans back in Hyuna’s lap and tugs his tee off over his head, letting it fall to the ground, and Hui watches it go before looking up at him.

“Hui, look at this,” Hyuna says, grabbing Hyojong by the shoulders and turning him so Hui can see the tattoo on the front of his left shoulder. “What do you think this is?”

Hui, his own shirt midway down his torso, leans in to see. “It’s… a heart,” he says. “With Roman numerals in it.”

“What is it, Dawn?” Hyuna asks, teasing, and Hyojong makes an annoyed, embarrassed noise and leans in to try and kiss her but she turns her head away, laughing again. “Tell him what it is!”

“It’s my birthday,” Hyojong groans, starting to kiss down Hyuna’s neck to hide from them both. “I couldn’t think of any other date, okay?”

Hyuna is still laughing; evidently, Hyojong hasn’t figured out that her neck is more ticklish than it is an erogenous zone. When he gets to the hollow of her throat, though, she makes that high sighing noise that means she’s getting turned on, and Hui finishes taking his shirt off and drapes it over the back of the couch. Hyuna reaches out for him and he leans in, still watching Hyojong kissing Hyuna’s neck. Hyojong’s eyes open and he looks up at Hui, and his eyes are so hot that it feels like he’s burning Hui just by looking at him. Hui can’t look away.

“C’mere,” Hyuna murmurs, tilting her head down, and Hui meets her in the middle, and he’s so used to kissing her but it feels so different, knowing that Hyojong is there looking at them, knowing they were both just kissing him, too. They break the kiss simultaneously to press their foreheads together and just grin at each other. Hui feels a light touch on his arm and glances down to see, and it’s Hyojong, brushing a hand over his shoulder and down his chest. 

“See something you like?” Hyuna teases, reaching up to flick a long strand of hair out of Hyojong’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Hyojong murmurs and hooks a finger in Hui’s belt loop. Hui can feel himself starting to go red, but he doesn’t let the shyness win, not even when Hyojong beckons Hui over with his other hand and a tilt of his head and Hui leans up to him. Hyojong takes Hui’s chin in his hand and kisses him deeply, and next to Hui’s ear, Hyuna lets out that sigh again. Hyojong then releases Hui’s jaw and puts his hand somewhere else to keep Hyuna busy, and Hyuna giggles and smacks his shoulder, squirming away.

“Fresh,” she chastises, leaning up to bite Hyojong’s ear, and Hyojong swears under his breath and falls out of her lap and into Hui’s lap instead, grabbing for his shoulders quickly so he doesn’t topple to the ground. Hui wasn’t expecting that, so there’s a moment where they’re both off-kilter and just sort of pawing at each other, and finally Hyojong gets settled and he’s laughing, leaning down to kiss Hui’s neck in the same spot he was kissing Hyuna’s. Hui takes in a shaky breath and moves a hand to run through Hyojong’s hair and down the nape of his neck and to his shoulder blades as Hyuna leans in to kiss Hui again.

Not long after, Hyuna’s blouse is somewhere across the room, and Hyojong is working to undo her bra as Hui presses a hand between her legs. 

“What’s taking so long?” Hyuna says, rolling her shoulders back, her fingers tight in Hui’s hair. Her ponytail is already spilling loose, and Hui’s blinded by her beauty for a moment, hand going still.

“Sorry, I’m better at belts,” Hyojong shrugs, leaning around to see which way the clasp is going, and he flashes Hui a grin. Hui grins back, his hand resuming movement on Hyuna’s inner thigh, thumb brushing higher.

“Practice makes perfect, honey,” Hyuna murmurs, then Hyojong finally succeeds and pops the clasp open and immediately leans in to kiss the curve of her tits, making her shiver and arch against him.

The couch doesn’t have enough room for all of them, but moving to the floor or to the bed feels cliché and risky — the moment could end — so they stay where they are, but Hui throws some of the decorative pillows that are getting in their way aside. He hears one of them hit something and knock it over, most likely a stack of books, and that, for some reason, reminds him of that very first fight he and Hyuna had, when the neighbor’s cat knocked over the flower pot. He starts laughing, breathless. He can’t believe they’ve come this far from that one incident; he should really buy that cat some fancy food or something in thanks.

“What?” Hyojong says, leaning in to kiss Hui’s lower lip and then his jaw, and when he moves his hand to press just above Hui’s jeans, the cold metal of his rings on Hui’s skin makes Hui’s laughter fade quickly and he tilts his head down to kiss his mouth.

“Nothing,” he says between kisses. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

“You better,” Hyojong murmurs, and his hand keeps moving down, and Hyuna shifts across both of their laps and steals Hui’s lips away for a kiss.

Just as he’d said, Hyojong is better at belts, and he has Hui’s jeans open in seconds. “I want to suck you off,” he says, and Hui can’t say anything back because Hyuna still has his mouth. Hyojong moves over to lick his earlobe, then bite it. “Okay?” he breathes, right into his ear, and Hui trembles, making a noise against Hyuna’s smiling lips that he hopes conveys just how okay he is with that idea.

Hyojong helps Hyuna out of Hui’s lap, and they get caught up with kissing each other for a while as Hui tries to breathe. Hyuna’s skirt is hiked up almost around her hips, her hair is a mess, and Hui is finally starting to get his breath back when Hyojong’s wicked hand comes back and goes right on into his jeans this time, no preamble, and Hui chokes on air and presses his face into Hyuna’s shoulder and bucks his hips up.

Then Hyojong is on his knees in front of the couch, and he’s taking his rings off and putting them on the coffee table. Hyuna squirms where she’s sitting, resting her head on Hui’s shoulder to watch, and Hyojong hesitates for a moment, looking up at them. And he smiles, broad and carefree and totally incongruous with the situation at hand, and before Hui can truly let his heart hurt from how _alive_ Hyojong looks, Hyojong is leaning in, tucking his hair behind his ear, and swallowing him down.

Eventually, Hyuna joins him on the floor, and Hui follows, and midway through Hyojong trying (and failing) to take Hyuna’s panties off with his teeth (he wanted to prove that he could, but he almost definitely can’t), Hui says, “Aren’t you glad I vacuumed?”

“Shut up,” Hyuna laughs, reaching to pinch Hui’s nipple. “Yes, okay? I’m very glad you vacuumed.”

Hui’s come already, but he could be up for a second round, the sight of Hyuna topless and on the floor with Hyojong, similarly topless and on the floor, has him still interested, sparks darting under his skin whenever either of them touches him anywhere. Hui leans down to kiss Hyuna, a hand curving around her breast, and she kisses back before pulling away to laugh at Hyojong, who has finally emerged triumphant with Hyuna’s panties in his teeth. 

“I never doubted you for a second,” she praises, reaching a hand out for him, and he drops the panties and kisses the palm of her hand before moving back down to kiss her ankle, then her knee, and then he’s nuzzling her thighs apart and she pulls Hui’s hair so tightly when he finally puts his mouth on her that it almost hurts.

Hui gets a vague idea, though, and by the time Hyuna’s really shaking and tightening her legs around Hyojong’s head, he reaches down and grabs his hair, tugging gently. “Come here,” he says, and the mere sight of Hyojong when he pulls away is enough to send a new wave of arousal stabbing through Hui. His eyes are dark and his mouth is so, so red and wet, and Hyuna makes a frustrated noise, wiggling demandingly. But Hui has a plan, and he gets Hyojong to come all the way up, guiding Hyojong’s hand between Hyuna’s legs to replace his mouth. Hyuna makes a different noise, and Hui pulls Hyojong closer and leans in to kiss him, going in practically tongue-first. If Hyuna wants a show, she’ll get one.

This was a great idea. Hyuna moans quiet and sweet, and Hyojong kisses Hui slow and messy, and Hui licks his tongue to taste Hyuna there, and it stops being about a show and becomes much more about exploring him, biting him back when he bites first and listening to the way his breath hitches on small sounds. 

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Hyuna says, her voice shaking, and Hui smiles into Hyojong’s mouth, emboldened by all of this. So he lets his hand follow Hyojong’s happy trail and slip into Hyojong’s jeans, and Hyojong’s elbow gives out and he nearly collapses on top of both of them. Hui kisses him through all his apologies, and Hyuna’s back to laughing, but her giggles are verging on sobs and Hui can tell she’s close.

Hyojong must be really good with his fingers, because the desperate way Hyuna yanks at Hui’s hair and quivers from head to toe when she finally comes is rare. Once he’s done marveling at how gorgeous she is and kissing her to soothe her through, Hui idly wonders how long it’ll be before he gets to find out for himself just how good Hyojong’s hands are. That’s for another time, though, and right now he focuses on how Hyojong is pulling his hand back and licking his fingers clean, making Hyuna shiver again as she watches. When he’s done, he leans in to kiss her just once, just lightly, and Hui resumes his earlier mission, curling his fingers around him and feeling immensely rewarded when Hyojong practically fucking whimpers and has to hide his face in Hyuna’s chest. He’s all worked up, color rising high in his cheeks, and even though it’s a sloppy hand job on the floor, it exceeds every single one of Hui’s expectations anyway. Hyojong looks right at him as he comes, and then they’re all just lying there, panting and grinning at each other.

“Penetration next time,” Hyojong says, making Hyuna laugh with shock and try to smack his arm, but she can’t quite move enough to do so. “Right now sleep.”

“No, no, not right now sleep, this is the floor,” Hui reminds him, poking his shoulder. Hyojong is on his front, sort of draped between Hui and Hyuna, and Hui can see the spikes of a tattoo on his back but can’t quite make out what it is and he’s too lazy to lift his head and see. “Come on. Bed.”

Hyojong groans, whiny all over again, and rolls off of them to lie on his back. He also fumbles around for his long-discarded t-shirt, using it to clean himself up and then tossing it away again. “You’re so hot but so mean.”

Hui sits up to look down at him, smiling, and leans down to steal a kiss. “I get that a lot. Now let’s go to bed.”

“Someone carry me,” Hyuna demands, rubbing her legs together as if she’s basking in how good she’s feeling, or as if she’s a cricket. 

“I’ll do it, but you have to stand up first,” Hui says, standing up to set an example, and Hyuna whines, too, wiggling over to cuddle up against Hyojong.

“No. That defeats the purpose.”

Hui sighs, extending his hands to her. “I’ll help you up, then.”

“What about me?” Hyojong says lazily, yawning into Hyuna’s hair, which is by now entirely down from the ponytail.

“Oh, you want me to carry you, too?” Hui laughs. “I’ll come back for you.”

Hyojong thinks about it, then sits up with a sigh and shakes his head. “Nah. Can I smoke here?”

“There’s a balcony,” Hyuna says, pointing in the general direction. “Smoking is bad for you.”

“Thanks,” Hyojong says and kisses the corner of her mouth before somehow standing up and finding a very squashed pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of his jeans. He snags a lighter from the fireplace mantle — Hui has decorative candles set up there, for whatever reason — and heads over to the balcony.

Hyuna wiggles her fingers at Hui, and Hui takes her hands and carefully pulls her up. “You good?” he asks, taking her into his arms and smiling when she rubs her cheek on his cheek. 

“The best,” she replies, getting settled in his hold. “I love you. I really, really love you.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m carrying you,” Hui says and heads to the bedroom, going fast because even though he’s strong enough to carry her, he’s not quite strong enough to just hold her for much longer than it takes to carry her.

“No, I’m not,” Hyuna says, kissing his cheek and squeezing him, her arms around his shoulders. “I really love you.”

“I really love you, too,” Hui says and turns his head to give her a brief kiss in return before setting her down on the bed. She crawls up to the headboard immediately and pulls the sheets around her, then spends the next few minutes bossing Hui around so he’ll bring her the shirt she sleeps in, a glass of water, and her phone. Once that’s done, she sends him out to fetch Hyojong, which he goes to do after changing into sweatpants and a tank top and putting his jeans in the laundry hamper.

Hyojong is done smoking and is now just sitting on the couch, his legs crossed with a foot on the opposite knee, and he stands up when Hui comes back out. Hui goes over to him, and Hyojong sways in close and kisses him, hands on his waist. Hui, very pleasantly surprised, kisses back, and the kiss is unhurried and has no goal in mind — it’s very, very nice. Hyojong still tastes like sex, but it’s not off-putting, and Hui lets Hyojong pull him in closer, smiling when Hyojong’s fingers dip just under the waistband of Hui’s pajama pants. Hyojong steps back after a moment, licking his own lower lip absently, and Hui hums, feeling very thoroughly wooed. “What was that for?”

“Lost time,” Hyojong says, turning around to pick up all the shirts from the floor and couch, and Hui sees that he has two tattoos on his back; a cross on the nape of his neck, and a stag right in the middle of his back, the antlers branching out to his shoulder blades. A story for another day, because all Hui wants to know right now is how the hell they’re all going to fit in the same bed. Hyojong returns with the shirts and sways in to kiss Hui again like he can’t help himself, and Hui can definitely see why Hyuna fell for him so fast; he really is irresistible, the full force of his attention turning Hui’s head and making him forget anything or anyone else exists. He wants to take more time to explore him, wants to really take him apart the same way Hyojong’s done to him, but right now Hyojong is still kissing him and Hui can’t stop smiling against his mouth.

“Let’s go to bed,” Hui murmurs, not pulling away, and Hyojong nods slightly, running a palm up Hui’s back. Hui nips Hyojong’s lower lip gently to indicate that he really means it, and Hyojong sighs and makes himself break the kiss. Hui smiles at him again when they’re pulled apart, and can’t bear to turn away, so he walks backwards towards the bedroom, and Hyojong grins crookedly, following. He catches him for another kiss in the doorway, Hui almost losing his balance but grabbing Hyojong’s arm at the last second and kissing back, and Hyuna wolf-whistles from the bed. Hui looks over at her, laughing, and she shrugs, folding down the corner of her page in the book she’s been meaning to finish for two weeks and setting it on the nightstand.

“What took so long? I’m getting cold,” Hyuna says, and Hui comes over to the bed to keep her company while Hyojong goes for the chest-of-drawers and starts looking through it. Hui watches him mildly, unsure of what he’s looking for but pretty sure he’s not up to any mischief, and soon Hyojong finds the drawer with Hui’s boxers and picks out a pair. “Come here!”

“Gimme a second,” Hyojong says, kicking his jeans off. He has a lower back tattoo that Hui hadn’t noticed before, and it’s so like Hyojong to have a tramp stamp that Hui snorts a quiet laugh and drops a light kiss to Hyuna’s shoulder. He also can’t help watching him, and even though his body has strange proportions — broad shoulders, slim waist, but square hips and straight legs — he looks so good, naked in the moonlight and pulling on a pair of Hui’s boxers to sleep in. Just as Hui had imagined, he sleeps shirtless. He comes over to the bed, Hui shifting to make room for him, and Hyuna holds out her arm to him. This is the Hyojong Hui is more familiar with, features blurred by dim lighting, so he manages not to have his breath completely taken away when Hyojong gets on the bed and crawls up to be by Hyuna. It’s still taken away, of course, just not completely.

“That’s right, c’mere,” Hyuna murmurs, winding her arms around Hyojong and smiling blissfully as he presses his face into her neck. She runs her fingers through his hair lightly over and over like she’s petting a kitten. “Mm, no, you’re heavy, never mind. Go away.”

Evidently, he nips her neck for that, because she giggles and shoves him, and he rolls over willingly enough, looking up at Hui. “What’s this from?” he says, reaching up to tap the very faint scar on Hui’s nose with his index finger.

“Fell off my bike when I was fourteen, nearly broke my whole nose,” Hui says, smiling down at him and shifting so he can get under the covers. “Do I get to ask any questions back?”

“No,” Hyojong says, taking his hand back again and yawning. He turns onto his front, making a tired noise into the pillow he’s pressed his face into.

“What time do you get off work tomorrow, honey?” Hyuna asks, walking her fingers down Hyojong’s back. “Wanna come over again?”

“It’ll be late,” Hyojong mumbles. “One.”

“I’ll leave a key under the mat?” Hui suggests. “Or I can give it to you when I stop by.”

Hyojong doesn’t say anything for a moment, then he sighs and pulls himself up to sit back on his ankles via child’s pose. “Okay. Do you have work early or something?”

“Yeah,” Hyuna says sadly, reaching out to gently pet him under the chin. “I start at nine, Hui starts at eight.”

Hyojong makes a face, looking commiseratively at Hui, and Hui shrugs. “I’m used to it. You don’t have to wake up, the alarm’s really quiet.”

Hyojong shrugs slightly, glancing around the bed. Probably to determine the best position for them all to sleep in, which Hui is also wondering about. “It’s fine. I’ll wake up.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” Hui says. “Where do you want to sleep?”

Hyojong, surprised by the question, looks to Hyuna for advice. Hyuna shrugs, too, sitting up to see how much room they have. “This is my side of the bed no matter what,” she informs Hyojong, “but it’s up to you if you want to be on the middle or on the other side. Hui’s versatile.”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, running a hand through his own hair thoughtfully as he considers his options. “Side. No— middle.”

“Okay,” Hyuna says, smiling up at him. “Good choice. Babe, will you get the light?”

Hui nods and scoots to the other side of the bed, reaching out to turn off the bedside floor lamp. Behind him, Hyojong gets under the blankets and he and Hyuna curl up together, kissing each other good night before she makes him turn over so she can spoon him. Hui looks at them for a moment, really looks, watching Hyuna whispering something into Hyojong’s ear that makes him scrunch up his face in a grin, and his chest aches with how good this feels. He lies down, too, and Hyojong wastes no time in draping an arm over him and pulling him back against him.

“Night,” Hyojong says, and Hyuna echoes, and Hui laces his hand with Hyojong’s on his stomach and closes his eyes.

Things are just fine, actually. 

_No_ , Hui thinks to himself as he’s drifting off, _things are much better than fine._ In the morning they’ll wake up, he’ll make pancakes, Hyojong and Hyuna will both have bedhead, and they’ll all see each other again late that night. There’ll be more time that they spend together individually, and more time that they all spend together, and dates and staycations and concerts and small fights and big fights and figuring out how the fuck to explain this to their parents and getting a bigger bed and convincing Hyojong to move in and letting him redecorate and growing up together and everything between, before, and beyond.

For now, though, all they have to do is sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> well... there’s that lol. if you liked this fic, and if you like triple h, BLEASE come talk to me on tumblr!!! i’m at [gaywillis](gaywillis.tumblr.com) and i love triple h!! really i have lots to say about the ~universe of this fic and about triple h in general and im just... wow. anyway, thank you so much for reading!! please leave me a review or come chat with me if you feel like it, thank u again :’)


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